But not that young. Old enough to know better.
We met through a mutual friend, James. He had a huge crush on her (and I think everyone else in the state did, too). The three of us hung out a lot that hot, sweaty summer, running around on the beach, going to parties, drinking wine at my apartment. I thought she was out of my league - five ten, long brown hair, winning smile, and a full but lithe dancer's body - but for some reason, those sparkling blue eyes seemed more interested in me than James. Gazing into my soul as I talked. Uncovering all my secrets.
The first orgasm I gave her - and probably the second, third, and fourth - came solely from stimulating her breasts. I just couldn't keep my hands off them, and after her initial surprise at being able to come that way, she was eager for me to do it again, and again. I rubbed, pressed, pulled, kneaded, licked, sucked, and squeezed with increasing excitement until her thighs pressed together and a cry escaped from her throat. She would go down on me after, sucking and licking, taking me deep inside, and sucking harder and harder until I spurted into her mouth. Then we'd talk, sweaty and breathless. That was new, she would say. Breast orgasms, fuck. I'm gonna have to Google that one.
She would often say that her breasts were 'small' or 'nothing special'. They were perfect. If she went braless in the house - which was often - they'd sit proudly, firm and unsupported, two smooth curves above her abdomen. Her nipples stood out quickly when she was aroused. I loved to take them in my mouth and get her to crest the wave before I pushed her over it.
We didn't really understand each other on an intellectual level. She was cold and analytical, ruthless. I was more go-with-the-flow. Early in our dating life, she made a big point out of the idea that women select a mate, often from a large pool of suitors. Basically, she wanted me to buck up. How would we survive as a couple? What would be our plan? She wanted at least some idea of where we were headed. Me, I just wanted to enjoy the heady, carefree joy of early intimacy. I assumed we'd enjoy having plenty of sex for a few months and then see if we could find any other language.
Thing was, she didn't want to have sex. She made it plain to me that she was by no means a virgin; dozens of men had lusted after her and professed their love for her, and she had allowed quite a few of them in. But she was older now. Twenty-five. Looking for something more serious. Not wanting to fuck around.
There were moments of intense connection, though. Mostly they involved touch. A deep embrace, a passionate kiss, naked exploration. The humidity made us want to shed clothes, and if anything came off, we figured we might as well make the most of it. Our bodies nestled together nicely. Touching each other felt good, no matter the mood in the room. Our long, exhausting talks quickly became irrelevant when I had a hand rubbing up and down her cunt and she was tugging wildly at my cock until she squealed in ecstasy and I blew my load on her smooth, light brown thigh.
James got the picture pretty quickly and moped around for the rest of the summer. He did us the courtesy of leaving us alone after the wine was finished, but he'd be back the next day, and the next, and the next. You could see the pain in his eyes. He'd known her for ten years and been basically in love with her the whole time, and when he finally moves down here to be with her, she gets distracted - by this fresh young guy with no shared history. Me. And he knew the relationship wasn't exactly going smoothly, given her propensity to blow up at me in front of him. Who could blame him for sticking around, waiting for his chance?
The animal attraction had to give at some point. If you can't keep your hands off each other, why continue to ignore the blazing fire? We were at a party at Sarina's parents' place, this mansion out in Sapphire Shores. We were on the living room dance floor getting increasingly worked up, me in shorts and a white polo shirt, her in a leopard-print tube top and a black skirt. Half an hour of watching that fabric stick to her skin just made me want to tear it off. We kissed passionately, pressing our bodies up against each other. She grabbed my face and looked at me with her mouth slightly open and her breath heavy, those big blue eyes cutting into mine. They did not say: I'm not sure if we should do this, considering the personality difference and poor timing of this relationship. They said: now.
She took my hand and led me to an empty room, pulling me in behind her. She dragged me onto the bed and kissed me, then told me to go and check the halls to see if the coast was clear. When I came back, she was under the covers. I climbed in after her and pulled at her tube top and she said, I'm naked from the hips down... We fumbled at each other's crotches for a minute, then I clambered on top and pushed inside her. She was warm and wet and engulfed me. A dazed smile crossed her face as she looked up at me. I started to move a little; the smile disappeared, replaced by an open mouth and a look of concentration. The leopard print fabric bunched under her breasts and rustled as we moved.
"Ah," she said.
I remember the insides of her thighs bumping against the outsides of my hips. I remember my penis cocooned snugly inside her, surrounded by wet softness. I remember the way her tits flattened out when I pressed my torso against hers.
She began squeezing me in and out of her with her pelvic muscles - like I said, she'd had plenty of practice prior to our relationship - and I almost didn't have to do anything. It was too much, the incredible moist pleasure surrounding my penis and building with every thrust in and out. She saw that I was close, so she said, It's okay, I'm on the pill. You can come inside me. Please come inside me. So I did. And when the first blast of sperm shot deep into her depths, she arched her back and squealed, coming with me.
Did I mention poor timing? She was moving to Mexico in a matter of months. I'm in, I said. But do you really think you can handle it? she replied. And how do I know this is even what you want? I just continued nodding, affirming my commitment to her. But you need to want it for yourself, she said. You can't come for me. Oh, I think I can come for you any time you like, I said, hoping to change the mood. She glared at me and said something about me being so flippant all the time, it drove her crazy that I never took anything seriously. Then she gave me a look that said something else, and I kissed her, and the air was so warm and sticky, so we took all our clothes off and fucked, right there on the floorboards.
